Chapter 4

Morgan was the most rattled. He jolted, instinctively pushing Isabelle off his lap. "Rachel, I..." he stammered, looking flustered.

But before he could get another word out, Isabelle cut him off with a sharp look.

She scoffed, got up, and walked away without a backward glance.

Morgan looked at me, like he wanted to say something but held back, then quickly turned and chased after her.

Charlie, his face all scrunched up and looking super annoyed, shot me a glare.

"Rachel, this is the first time we're celebrating Mom's birthday, and everyone was so happy, then you came back and messed it all up!" he shouted. Then he, too, turned and stormed off.

I looked at Charlie, the kid I'd raised myself, and honestly, I couldn't even tell what I was feeling anymore.

In the end, it was just Ethan and me left, awkwardly staring at each other, neither of us saying a word.

Ethan let out a frustrated "Damn," raked his hands through his hair like he was about to lose it.

"Why does it always have to be me stuck here? Seriously, I'm so sick of this," he muttered.

I hadn't planned to speak to him at all, but I couldn't hold back and snapped at him.

"Then leave. No one's keeping you here," I said.

Ethan stiffened. A flush of shame or anger crept up his neck.

He shoved his chair back with a loud scrape, the legs grating against the floor.

The steaming pot wobbled from his sudden movement, then came crashing down right toward him.

My reflexes kicked in. I shoved him out of the way without even thinking. It wasn't until the scalding pain shot up my arm that I realized what I'd done.

Ethan was stunned for a few seconds, then stumbled toward me. "A-are you okay?" he stammered.

I gently stepped back, putting some space between us. "I'm fine," I replied.

He fumbled for words for a while before finally saying, "Should we go to the hospital? Your arm's all red from the burn."

I walked to the sink and ran cold water over the burn. I replied, "No need. I just got out of the hospital. I really don't want to go back so soon."

Ethan's eyes looked a little watery as he turned away, sounding all awkward. "Y-you were the one who jumped in, so don't blame me for this later."

I glanced back at him and couldn't help but laugh at myself. "I'm not blaming you. Honestly, it's just a stupid reflex. My own problem," I said.

I didn't want another scene, so I walked right past, headed out to the yard, and started thinking about where I could find a decent place to settle down once the divorce was finalized.

Somewhere quiet, far from there. The farther, the better.

"Hey, wait. That's not what I meant," Ethan called out.

Seeing me walk away, he scrambled after me. His voice, when it came, was low and full of surrender.

"I'm sorry, okay," he mumbled, his voice a little whiny.

"I messed up, Rachel. I shouldn't have talked to you like that," he said, regret clear in his tone.

"I was just still kinda salty about you chewing me out for racing the other day," he admitted.

It didn't matter anymore.

I cut him off in a flat, detached voice. "I get it. You can go now."

But he didn't leave. He crouched down, grabbed my arm, and looked up at me with those puppy-dog eyes, pleading, "I'm not going until you say you're not mad at me anymore."

That spoiled, playful way of his—it was exactly how he used to act back then.

I stared at him for a second. His face still had that boyish innocence, but I could see a bit of that sharp edge starting to peek through.

After a moment, I quietly pulled my arm out of his grip, not saying a word.

Ethan looked stunned, a little hurt. His lips twisted into a pout before he finally muttered, "Fine. If you won't forgive me, then forget it."

When he came back, he was already sitting in his flashy red sports car. He pulled up right in front of me and blared the horn, just to get my attention.

I glanced up as the passenger window slid down, and there was Isabelle, smirking at me with a sharp, challenging smirk.

Ethan shouted loud enough for everyone to hear, "Hop in, Isabelle. Let me show you how it's done."

If it were before, I would've shut it down right away—no hesitation, and definitely no room for negotiation.

Ethan'd gotten himself hurt racing more times than I could count. That sport is just way too risky, and it always made me worry sick whenever he went driving.

But this time, I just let it go.

Ethan struggled with a look of pure disbelief, edged with resentment. "Rachel, you're seriously letting me race?" he asked.

I just nodded, cold and indifferent. "Yeah."

He gritted his teeth, snapping back, "Fine. Don't come crying to me later."

He threw out that threat, slammed on the gas, and sped off.

Isabelle's excited cheers trailed after them, along with her teasing call. "Ethan, why even talk to her?"